PTB S University 2012
by Lulu M
Summary: Getting it on and cheap cup o'noodles. Dorm rooms and evading campus police. Studying hard and partying harder. College in Edward and Bella terms. Homework Assignments for Project Team Beta's SU 2012. Unbeta'd.
1. Pre Assignment

**Pre-Assignment**

**Posted June 21, 2012**

**Challenge: Writing in a male POV.**

* * *

Boobs. That was all I saw. Boobs, boobs, and more boobs. Emmett took "this is my side of the room and that's your side of the room" really seriously. I had a picture of Mount Rushmore my sister had forced her way in putting up, which I was just too lazy to take down, and Emmett had naked women, which he beat off to every night. This I know. He was in no way ashamed to masturbate with another person in the room. Which made up for the fact that I was way too ashamed to admit I heard him.

It wasn't that my side of the room was better than his side of the room. In fact, I had taken the pleasure of seeking sexual gratification with my hand on the rare occasion Emmett traveled home for the weekend and on the days class let out early, and I had used the variety of different boobs plastered across the way as inspiration.

So it wasn't that the boobs were a problem. It was that they just weren't the boobs I wanted to see, and at three o'clock in the morning with a test in Biology the next day, this proved to be a major problem.

The boobs I wanted to see weren't as large or as meaty as the women displayed on Emmett's wall. They were the exact opposite. Small. Kind of pointy. Emmett would call them mosquito bites rather than boobs. I called them boobs, because that was what they were … and well they were pretty nice boobs, in my opinion.

I wasn't exactly sure when I started thinking they were nice boobs. The person the boobs were attached to, I'd know my entire life—the part that counts, anyway—and even just last year, I didn't think there was anything special about her boobs. Nothing about them changed in any drastic way. It was just all the sudden they were nice boobs.

To be honest, I was a little worried about it at first. How could my preferences just suddenly change with no warning? But then I saw that Jasper had grown boobs—or man boobs as Emmett likes to say—over the summer, and I was actually slightly horrified, so I felt a little bit better.

Thinking back, the day the boobs became nice was probably the day I walked into the lounge area and caught the person the boobs were attached to making out with Mike Newton on the couch. I wasn't in love with this girl. She was the annoying kid next door that always tagged along with me and my friends until my sister became more interesting. When she got older, I'd admit she wasn't bad looking. I just never thought of her in that way.

But it was one thing to see her being lazy as fuck on my couch back at home, and another thing to see her allowing some dude to stick his hand up her shirt and fondle a kiwi. I'd acted like any other big brother would do and pulled the fucker off of her before he scampered like some scared little puppy down the hall. She'd yelled at me, but I didn't give a shit.

Actually, I didn't remember anything past where she said, "If a guy wants to touch my tit, it's my choice to let him to or not."

My focus had dropped down to her boobs after that, and then all I could think about was how Newton's palm had perfectly encompassed the entire mass of one boob, and then I was wondering if my palm would do the same, and then I found out that if I thought about that scene hard enough in my mind, I could just barely see a bit of side boob. And, well, with that and the way she was jumping around all angry-like causing her boobs to have just the tiniest of bounce, I was fucking hard.

Hard. For the girl who used to pick her boogers and shove them in my face. _Un-fucking-real._

Suffice to say, that conversation hadn't ended well. I was too distracted trying to not look at her boobs and attempting to hide the fact that I had a major tent pitching. She got even angrier, socked me a good one, and disappeared into her room.

Two days later, I was still thinking about her boobs. Worst of all, at random moments of the day, I'd think of her boobs _and_Newton, and that just made me angry rather than horny, and whatever hard-on I was sporting deflated faster than a balloon.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—Newton wasn't on my mind now. Just her boobs and how nice they were. And I was hard, but that was no surprise there. I'd come to the realization that whenever her boobs popped into my mind, pouty penis down there would jump up like any other happy fucker.

I just knew that I if I were to slap one out, I'd fall asleep like a fucking baby, but that goes back to the point that the roommate was sleeping just five feet away and masturbation just couldn't be an option. At least, that was the thought two hours ago. I started wondering what color of nipples the boobs would have. Would they be a light pink? Or a dark brown? And then I started thinking about how big the nipples would be. Small and sharp? Or big and round. And then I was so hard that it was actually painful, and before I knew it, I had one hand down my pants.

I was gripping and sliding when I finally came to my senses. Emmett wake up, hear what I was doing, and I'd never live it down, so I mentally told my hand to stop, but by then, my hand practically had a mind of its own. It felt so good going up and down, and where my brain was telling it to halt, my penis was saying, "If you stop, I'll cut off each and everyone of your fingers in a slow and painful manner, and then we'll both suffer for the rest of our lives."

And by the time my brain and penis stopped fighting, it was just too late that even my brain joined the bandwagon. First, it countered that it was three o'clock in the morning, and Emmett was probably so deeply sleeping a freight train wouldn't even wake him. Second, it decided to throw pictures of those nice pointy little boobs at me, and any leftover thought of stopping just vanished like that.

I was a total fucking goner, but if I thought that was the last of it, I was so completely wrong.

Along with the boobs, the mouth came as well with juicy lips wrapped around my cockhead while the boobs rubbed against my thighs. The back and ass played a minor role where they both curved sensuously up into the air.

"Fuck." I moaned, gripping my penis harder and moving my hand faster. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Rub the head. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.

And then the vagina got a starring role with me on my back and her straddling that oh-so-happy-place, but then straddling turned into penetrating, which turned into bouncing, which turned into a really happy Edward. Her boobs bounced along with her as if they didn't want to be left behind, up and down, but then they started going around in circles and that was even better.

"Jesus," I cried out, turning my head to muffle it in my pillow, but then I saw Emmett's face shiny with drool, and my penis deflated just a little bit, and I couldn't have that, so I turned my face back to the ceiling and bit my lip instead. Which was a poor fucking substitute.

Around and around her boobs went, and up and down my hand went. Over and over and just a tiniest bit harder, and I was so fucking close to coming. My wrist was beginning to hurt, my abs were sore from clenching, and there was so much pressure on my face, I didn't have to see to know I was red in the cheeks.

When she squeezed her nipples—which fluctuated between small and pink to big and brown to small and round to big and pointy—I knew I was ready to come. When she grabbed my hands and made me fondle her boobs along with those ever-changing nipples, I did come. Hard and fast and sticky in an overall disgustingly loud manner, ending it all on a moan of her name.

"Bella."

Euphoric and sleepy and so ready to greet Mr. Sandman, I closed my eyes with a content smile plastered across my face.

"Dude … did you just spank the monkey with me in the room?"

_Fuuuuuuuuuuccccccckkkkk._

"Um … no."

"You still have your hand down your pants, man."

I paused. "I'm not exactly sure what to say to you right now."

Emmett yawned and turned to face the wall. "Don't worry about it. I'm going back to sleep. Just know that I'm giving you hell tomorrow."

Motherfucking boobs. It was all their fault.

* * *

**If you were interested, the word (singular and plural) "boobs" shows up 36 times in 1,500 words. **


	2. Ficology

**Smut University 2012**

**Posted June 28, 2012**

**Lesson – Ficology: The Human/Vampire Reproductive System by TheSaintsMistress**

**Assignment - Write a lemon using a Karma Sutra position you've never come across in a fic before. Steer clear from overly descriptive lemons where body parts and sexual positions become a biology lesson.**

**Challenge – not getting lost in the plot.**

* * *

Mike was doing pull ups. Up and down. Up and down. I was leaning against him, my back to his front. He didn't seem to notice. He just kept going up and down. Any other time, I'd have admired the strain in his biceps because his arms were only one part of the hotness in his body. Mike was a very good-looking boy, and unfortunately, another good-looking boy was taking my attention away from the one going up and down.

Edward was just slightly visible on the other side of the park, swinging back and forth, his face full of shadows from the nearby streetlight. I couldn't make them out in the dark, but I knew his green-green eyes were pointed straight at me. Edward didn't like Mike, and because I was always around him, by default, he didn't like me.

He and I had never been the best of friends, but we were friends and had been since we were kids. Now we were more like enemies and all because of a boy. Rose said he just took his "big brother" role seriously, but we weren't siblings, or my fantasies of him back in high school would have been so illegal.

Not that I ever liked Edward in that way, but we lived in a small town and he was cute and my fantasy liked cute boys, so he starred in quite a few of them all the way up through graduation and into college until I met Mike. Then I found out that the real deal was so much better than the fantasy, and Edward was no longer important.

I thought a part of him knew that, and he just wanted to be important because he was an attention-hogger like that.

"Hey, babe, how do I look?" Mike asked, still going up and down.

I rolled my eyes and ignored him. I hated that nickname. Mike and I were definitely not dating, but at times, he didn't seem to think so. I never saw myself as the girl to have a fuck buddy—not that Mike and I were fucking … just everything else—but a lot of things changed about a person once they entered college.

I used to like wearing skirts and pretty shirts. Now my wardrobe was made up of sweats and holes. I used to never be able to leave my house without showering. Now I could go a few days without one. I used to never think I'd ever get tattoos and piercings. Now I was drawing up a design and had three holes in my ear and saving up money for one in my nose.

College does a lot to a person. At least me. I used to think I'd give my v-card to my husband. Now it has been downgraded to someone special. Mike was definitely not that someone special, which is why we weren't dating.

"18 … 19 … 20 … think I can make it to a hundred, babe?" Up and down. Up and down.

And then I was lost because Mike doing pull-ups wasn't the only thing that went up and down, and I was only a teenager, and, contrary to popular belief, sex can be on a girls' mind just as much as it can be on a boys', and sex was on my mind constantly.

I leaned back harder against Mike, and it felt really nice, having his front rub up against my back. If I pressed my butt just a little bit harder I could feel his junk through his jeans, a solid unmoving mass, different from the other parts of his body, going up and down, up and down.

And then I knew Edward was watching. He was angry. I could tell in the way he crunched his beer can. In the way he through it into the air. In the way it bounced so loud against the ground that Jasper yelled at him to shut the fuck up before someone called the cops.

He was angry, and he was glaring at me, and I could feel it, and even though I knew he hated me, it felt spectacular. His gaze was hot and consuming and with the way Mike was going up and down, I wanted more. I wanted more than just touches and finger swirls. I wanted us naked. I wanted him pushing inside of me. In and out while he went up and down.

I smacked my lips to hide the moan trying to escape and tasted tequila. Three shots found us in the park, doing illicit activities in the dark, drinking the night away with laughter and fun because we were only young once as Rose liked to say, and this youngin' wanted sex in the park with her partner going up and down on the monkey bars.

My mind swirled. I felt Mike behind me, but Edward was consuming everything else. His eyes never swayed, and even though he was feet away, it felt like he was right there, standing against my chest, pressing forward just like I was pressing back. My balance was off, and I reached behind, grabbing on to Mike's hips, but it didn't help. He was going up and down, and suddenly I was going up and down with him.

In and out he pushed. Up and down he went. We were naked. Skin to skin. Rubbing and sliding. Faster and faster. My hands gripped harder, and I bit my lip, begging to be silent, begging for release, closing my eyes and looking high, waiting for the ground to touch my feet, and then the heat from the front combined with the heat from the back and Mike wasn't quite Mike.

He was blonde hair with green eyes. He was tanned skin with a crooked smile. He was big shouldered and lean muscled. Hot breaths and low moans. Grunt. Grunt. Whisper. Slide. So close. So close.

I wanted to whisper harder and faster. I wanted to hear his skin against mine. I wanted …

Mike jumped down, landing on his feet. No longer touching me. I stumbled back, caught off guard. The heat from the back was gone, and I felt slightly lost, but the heat from the front was still there, grounding me, reminding me of what could be, and then I knew I had too much to drink because I was mixing Edward and Mike and that combination was not bound to go over well.

Blonde hair and blue eyes threw an arm around me, nestling me in between big shoulders. His hands went up and down my covered back as his lips trailed wetness across my neck, but I found myself wanting something else.

I wanted green eyes shaded by too-long hair, a crooked smile reserved for only those closest to him, and lean muscle, sinewy from track training every day, and an epiphany hit me. That years of fantasizing about a boy I never really wanted didn't just go away. It simmered, and Edward never really lost his importance to me, and maybe he knew that and was just waiting to slither his way back in.

I met his eyes from across the park, and I knew he knew. His hot gaze told me so, still simmering with anger, but now with a bit of lust, and I wondered where it came from. Certainly not me because he was my "big brother," not the boy I could do naughty things with.

He jumped from the swing, heading toward Mike and I. Jasper and Rose flanked him. He grabbed a beer from Jasper's backpack and opened it. The crack of aluminum whispered through the air. He took a drink and then handed it to me when he was close enough. I took a drink, and it was almost like I was kissing him.

His eyes narrowed at Mike's arm, but were filled with that smirkiness I hated when he looked back at me. Something had changed, but I wasn't quite sure what.

"You and the fucker dating now?" he asked.

"Bella prefers not to—" Mike started.

"No," I interrupted.

He knew. I could tell. He knew I wanted him.


	3. Gratuitous Lemon

**Smut University 2012**

**Posted July 30, 2012**

**Lesson – The Non Completely Gratuitous Lemon by LyricalKris**

**Assignment - One of your couple is hiding something. The guilt is eating them alive. It leaks into everything, bleeds into what should be a moment of passion, of love. They try to lose themselves in the moment, the pleasure, but they can't.**

**Extra credit - Write your lemon without the use of graphic words: cock, penis, vagina, hole, pussy, insert, etc. Try to write the act with emotion rather than play by play description.**

**Challenge – I failed the extra credit. This assignment was very hard for me to get out. I could imagine what I wanted, but transferring those thoughts to paper seemed almost impossible. Bleh. Hopefully this makes some sort of sense.**

* * *

She looked my way. I tried not to care, but I did. I could feel her gaze scorching my skin, leaving me bare to her wandering eyes, not that there was much to imagine. Alcohol had dulled my senses enough to let Alice take my shirt off and unbutton my pants. Had I been slightly less inebriated, I might have cared about my near nakedness or about the girl trying to maneuver her way into my lap, but the only thing my mind could see were two squeezable titties being squeezed by the wrong hands.

She came with Newton and that made me so angry I immediately called up Alice. I didn't even like Alice. In fact, I avoided her at all costs. We had a one-nighter back in the day. She wanted more. I didn't. She seemed okay with that. I hated using her, but I knew she'd come.

"We're not dating," _she_ had said. "We're just friends." Bull shit. I could play this game too.

Alice had promptly attached herself to me, and when _she_ looked my way for the first time, I felt a sense of satisfaction that I had gotten back at her that I let Alice do what she wanted, even encouraged it.

One point for me. Zero for her.

When Newton leaned over to kiss her, I beat her by letting Alice shove her tongue down my throat. When Newton surreptiously touched her side-boob, I let Alice grind on me. When Newton crawled in between her legs, I let Alice rub my junk. And somewhere between three shots and Alice's shirt coming off, I had a brief thought that maybe I had taken it a bit too far.

"Holy popsicle stick!" Rose screeched. "There are some things I don't need to see my brother doing. Get a fucking room, you two."

_She_ pushed at Newton's shoulders, sitting up on the couch, a pink blush staining her cheeks. She could do no wrong in Rose's eyes, but I knew she was embarrassed with her actions all the same. Her gaze met mine, and in my drunken state, I was only able to focus on one thing.

Hurt. She was hurt, and I didn't know why. That hurt blurred my vision and marked her path out of the lounge as she left behind Newton and, most importantly, me. That hurt numbed my limbs that I couldn't even lift myself from the couch without help. That hurt confused my mind that when I felt my pants being tugged down my legs and lips wrap around my cock, I wanted it to be her.

I wanted her tongue sliding up and down. Her mouth sucking just barely. Her fingers squeezing and gripping and feeling so fucking good. Bringing me to that peak and letting me fall. Catching me at the end and grounding me to Earth. And then I wanted to do the same to her. Rub and rub until she threw her head back, moaning her pleasure, thrusting her boobs into the air, calling out my name along with pleas for more. Going round and round, adding more pressure, watching her shudder, feeling her tense, knowing what she was feeling and that I was the one that did it to her.

I wanted it enough that it was almost happening, that it was happening, that brown eyes turned to gray, and if before was too far, this was unseeable, unthinkable.

When Alice wrapped her arms around my torso, laying her head on my shoulder, her lips raw from too much stimulation, I felt no satisfaction only guilt. Guilt pressed onto me for the girl lying naked against me and the girl that I dreamed about every night that I felt more want than before my carnal activities, stirring in my gut, teasing my body, letting me know that it was just barely out of reach. My own personal hell. My own personal punishment.

I dreaded the morning where I would have to say goodbye to Alice and tell her thanks but no thanks. I dreaded when I would have to face _her_ knowing she knew what I did. I dreaded thinking that there was quite possibly and will always be nothing between us. That maybe I had ruined whatever small sliver of a chance we had together. All because I wanted to beat her at a game she most likely wasn't even playing.


	4. Virgin Scene

**Smut University 2012**

**Posted August 19, 2012**

**Lesson – Writing a Virgin Scene by Opal Aline**

**Assignment - Write a scene featuring two virgins – any pairing is fine, so long as both are virgins.**

**Challenge – My challenge lately has just been writing. I'd like to say my incredibly busy schedule lately played a part to that, but it hasn't. I find myself staring at an empty document for long moments of time. I've been reading _Counselor's_ stories lately and that has pulled me out of my funk somewhat, so much thanks to her ... him? I don't like to assume nowadays.**

* * *

He came with _her_, but he left with me, and I laughed inside. Perhaps I should have felt some sort of womanly sympathy for my own gender, but I couldn't help feeling victorious. That I had won him. That he was mine.

And I was definitely his as we stumbled up the stairs of his parents' house. A week long vacation had brought us all back to our hometown plus a few friends. Most had already passed out. I wasn't sure where _she_ had ended up, but I wasn't in the mood to care. Green eyes and strong hands were pulling me down the hall toward that bedroom I had fantasized so often about back in high school.

We fell onto his bed, and we were both experienced enough to not fumble through the clothes to the skin, and when he crushed his chest to mine, we were naked, and I was feelings things—glorious, smooth, well-endowed things—that stirred up my insides and set my body afire, and if I wasn't already drunk of of alcohol, I'd have been drunk off of the pure lust that seemed to catapult straight from that tingly bit down there to my toes and up to my brain and along my fingers to their tips. Everywhere. It was everywhere, and I moaned and moaned and begged for more.

He kissed and licked and sucked and worshipped, bringing me up and taking me down but never really letting me fall, and boy, did I want to fall. I wanted to give him what I hadn't given to anyone else, what he said he hadn't given to anyone else either. I'd waited, and I knew this was the time, so drunk on lust and who knows how much alcohol, I opened my thighs to him, inviting him in.

His green eyes swerved to mine, looking for clarification, but I was so impatient. I pushed his hip with my knee so that he fell into the crevice my legs created. He was startled, especially when that special part of him brushed up that oh-so-wet part of me. I was startled. This was real. It was going to happen.

"Do it," I whispered.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"I don't think there's anyway around that, but I want it."

"Are you sure?"

"Most definitely."

And then pushed and he missed and it actually did kind of hurt when he poked the sensitive bits down there. He tried again and he missed again and grunted in frustration, burying his face in my neck. My thighs were beginning to tremble and I think he felt it because next I knew, he was rolling to his side, pulling me along until I straddled him, staring down into his face.

"You do it," he said. "Just lower yourself onto me. If it hurts than you stop and go as you like."

It was a cop out. I knew it and he knew it, but who was I to complain, so I took him in my hand and guided his way into me. He closed his eyes and pushed his head back, grunting as my body overtook his head.

I wasn't quite sure what I was feeling. Pressure definitely pressure, but it didn't really hurt, but then again there wasn't that much of him inside of me. A moment of indecision, of inadequacy hit me, and I was afraid I would completely and totally suck at this, so I dropped. Just pushed my entire body down, right over him, taking him in, until my hips met his and we were one as the romance books liked to say.

He moaned so loud and bucked his hips so hard, I had a hard time staying atop of him, but I did, and nothing really hurt down there, so I lifted up and did it again, and he definitely liked that, but I was a little disappointed. It didn't feel bad or good. It was like a huge tampon moving in and out.

By the time I lifted up and fell again for a third time, his hands were gripping my hips so hard with his body arched high into the air, his eyes at the back of his head, moaning so loud he had to have awoken everyone in the house. I knew he was coming, and it was so fast I practically missed it.

His hands pulled me down, engulfing me in his arms, pressing my cheek to his chest. He was breathing hard and kissing my hair and whispering, "God. That was amazing. You're amazing. Thank you. Thank you. So good. So fucking good."

Then the letdown hit me hard. The anticlimax for a better word. I panicked. I knew I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it. The lust drained away from me, and I was suddenly sober in all aspects, and what I did, what I gave, what he gave, was a sudden harsh reality.

He came with Alice but he left with me. Who would he leave with tomorrow? He'd already chosen her over me before. Who's to say he wouldn't do it again. I panicked. I probably shouldn't have, but I couldn't help it, so I pushed against his shoulders but he wouldn't let me leave.

"I'm bleeding all over you." It wasn't a lie. I really was, and it made him let go. He was covered in my blood. My virgin blood and after seeing the red splash, the ache down there came to life, and it wasn't a good sort of ache.

He watched me as I gathered my clothes and redressed. His mouth saying nothing, but his eyes were saying everything, all of which I refused to acknowledge.

"I think I'd better sleep with Rose."

I left him there, on his bed, a bed I had fantasized about it so often in the past, and made my way back down the stairs and into Rose's bed, one I was quite familiar with. She was passed out, her breath smelling of tequila, but I nudged her anyway, and somehow she managed to pull herself out of her stupor.

She smiled a lazy smile at me and wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling me close, and that was when I burst into tears. She patted my shoulders as her eyes closed again.

"I lost it, Rosie. I gave my v-card up. I'm not an innocent anymore."

She smiled and moved her hand to my back, rubbing small circles and said, "That's nice, Bellie."

* * *

**This scene was partially inspired by how my v-card was taken. Lesson learned after years of contemplation: it's not okay, it's not your fault, and definitely do not settle for anything less than what you're worth.**


	5. Spanking the Monkey

**Smut University 2012**

**Posted January 6, 2013**

**Lesson – Spanking the Monkey by BellaFlan**

**Assignment - ****Write any kind of masturbation scene, as long as it's outside of your comfort zone. Remember to describe what your character is thinking and feeling (using as few adverbs as possible). There should be at least one reference to Cornflakes.**

**Note: I am bound and determined to finish these assignments before next year's SmutU. Stay tuned.**

* * *

Rose was pissed. Like really pissed. She stomped through the house with hangover hair and raccoon eyes, pulling open blinds and waking everyone up. Groans and moans of the unfriendly kind filled the air as bleary eyes opened. I hung back, fearful of her wrath but even more fearful to let her out of my sight.

"Which one of you fuckers did it?" she yelled, kicking at Mike still passed out, his legs peeking out from underneath the coffee table.

Ben slapped his palm to his face, poorly attempting to shield his abused red eyes from the morning sunlight. "Who spit in your cornflakes, Rosie?"

I felt his pain. Just barely five minutes ago, Rose had barged into my room, yanking open my curtains and pulling me from the warm comfort of my bed. And even though I ached for that warm comfort where I could curl into a ball and nurse my bruised ego and pride in hopes of feeling some sort of solace, nothing could really take away the hurt bleeding from my heart, so I made no attempt to refuse my angry sister.

"Don't make me whip all of your dicks out. Who made the mistake of popping my girl's cherry last night?"

So this was what her rampage was about. I wanted to harden whatever sympathies I had left, but something about Rose's "girl" made my heart twinge in a way that had me long for her.

When Rose started de-panting the males in the room, I pulled her away by her wrist, her racoony blue eyes glaring daggers at me. "You have to help! Someone made my girl cry, and I'm determined to make him pay!"

"This isn't the way." I led her back to her room, ignoring the frustrated tears that refused to fall down her cheeks. "Go to her. She needs you now."

She sighed, quietly opening her door before looking over her shoulder back at me. "We'll find him, Edward, and then we'll cut off his dick and shove it down his throat."

"Next time, Rose."

Returning to my room, my bed no longer looked as inviting as it did before. The small red stain glowed in the shaft of morning light lying across it. I ripped my sheets away, throwing them into a crumpled ball in the corner. The bare mattress only seemed to mock my failures of the previous night, so I took to the shower instead, only to be betrayed once again by the dried blood flaking off my dick.

I covered myself in soap, watching as the barely-tinted-pink suds washed down the drain. She was just a girl. A girl I've known for far too long. This hurt, this ache, it was stupid. Not needed. Not for someone who meant nothing to me besides my sister's best friend. If there were something special about her, I'd have noticed a long time ago . . .

Right?

But there was something about her. Like the way her boobs were just the right size and how they had fit oh-so-nicely in my palms. Or how her lips plumped after a few rounds of making out and fell open in the perfect o-shaped moan. Or how her hips had the right amount of meat where I could grab on with the intention of never letting go.

I hadn't last night. I'd held on to her from the very first thrust to the very last. From her shoulders when she slid her naked chest across mine to her wrist when she gripped me tightly with her fingers to her hips when she began moving so sensually over me and now I was hard and it was my hand on my dick instead of hers.

And though my heart felt like it had dropped out of my chest when she walked away from my bed, I stroked myself to pictures of her in my mind because she was hot and sexy and small and pointy and slender and meaty in all the right places.

Her hair was just the right length to wrap around my hand and hold onto just the way my fingers were wrapped around my exceedingly happy dick. Her back was long and lean and dimpled in the hottest of places, brimming with sweat, just waiting for my hand to stroke down the spine and press just above her sweet ass just like the way I was stroking up and down, soft and then harder and then pressing and swirling.

And then I was calling her name and telling her she was beautiful and saying how amazing it was and thanking her profusely. She blushed in embarrassment. Not because I had my dick in her but at my words and I didn't understand because she was the prettiest thing on this side of the planet. Long-standing-brotherly relationship be damned. I'd be a fool to not recognize it.

But I was. A fool. There wasn't anything special about her because everything about her was beyond being special. There was no word, no category, no way to describe the extraordinary that she was made out of. She was everything and I let her walk away. I let her take my dignity after stripping her of hers. An eye for an eye or, in our case, a swap of popped cherries. But I didn't care. She could have my cherry and more. She already had my heart no matter how much I denied it.

It was hot, the bathroom steamy with too-warm water, my brow dripping as I tilted my head to the shower ceiling, letting the warm spray splash down me, taking away my sweat just as I call out her name one last time. So good. So amazing. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Just a few more strokes to make it last longer as the image of her began to dissipate, fading like pixilated sand until my mind was black and empty.

Water, sweat and blood wasn't the only thing washed down the drain. My disbelief was as well because Bella wasn't just a girl.

She was the girl.


	6. Realism

**Smut University 2012**

**Posted January 12, 2013**

**Lesson – Realism by SexyLexiCullen**

**Assignment -****Draw from a personal sexual experience – good, bad, or ugly – and write it out. Bring yourself back to that moment and try to express your own feelings.**

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_Why aren't you talking to me? _"Because I have nothing to say."

_Did you get my last message? _"Yes and the fifty million before that."

_I don't know what to say. What did I do?_ "Nothing that wasn't unexpected."

_I'm sorry anyway. Please talk to me._ "When I'm good and ready."

My cellphone vibrated again with another text message. I didn't bother checking it. "Just leave me alone."

Rose's phone went off. She picked it up. "What did you do to my brother?"

I tried to keep my face passive as my insides jumped around. "What do you mean?"

"He just asked if you were with me." She side-eyed me. "Why?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know how Edward's mind works. You'll have to ask him."

"Believe me. I am."

I settle back, ignoring the way my phone lights up with another message.

"You know"—she started, twirling a blonde lock around her index finger—"this isn't the first time he's asked me about you. It's actually been happening a lot lately."

"Is that so?" I glue my eyes to the television screen.

"Yep. Where's Bella? How's Bella? What's Bella doing? Bella. Bella. Bella. This is the most my brother has talked to me in a long time, and it's all about you."

"I can't imagine why." I disregarded the way my voice squeaked at the end and clear my throat of the bullshit coming out of my mouth.

Rose's head snapped in my direction, her blonde hair following like a ring of fire, her eyes carefully scrutinizing me. "I'm not stupid."

I carefully turn in her direction. "I know that."

"I can put two and two together."

"And what did you get?"

"Despite having interviewed all the boys from the party, none of them seem to know about your cherry being popped and who did it, you won't tell me, and suddenly Edward knows how to write text messages."

"I'll never forgive you for that. Telling everyone I'm no longer a virgin."

"Like it's a big surprise."

"Tyler and Ben still tease me about it. They've made it their life mission to find out who the popper is."

"Tyler and Ben are a bunch of bored douches, and you'll get over it. The point is why don't you want to tell me that my brother was your first fuck?"

I cringe. "Rose—"

"Don't try to deny it."

"I guess … I was scared you'd be mad."

"That you fucked my brother? I'm more mad that you didn't tell me, but I'm even more annoyed that he keeps blowing up my phone over this."

"I'm sorry," I said when I have nothing better to offer.

"Just talk to him already and end this misery for me."

"You don't care that he and I … you know."

"Why would it matter to me who you fuck or who my brother fucks." She waved her hand in front of her face in annoyance.

"Is it going to be awkward between us?"

"Bitch, please. I'm going to make this as awkward as hell and then I'm going to laugh in both of your faces."

I crack a smile. "I'm sorry, Rosie."

"Whatever." She fell back against the couch. "Just talk to him already."

My phone vibrates against my palm. I hesitate for only a second before scrolling through the unread messages, the last one reading: _I need to see you._

I text him back, hoping it sounds quick and simple and nonchalant instead of desperate and anxious and scared. _Fine. Where do you want to meet?_

His answer was immediate. _I'm at Jasper's place._

But so was mine. _I'll be there in five. Look for my car. _

He was a shadowed figure standing beneath the lone streetlight marking the entrance into Barrington Apartments. With his hood pulled, his hands shoved into his pockets, he looked like a creeper, and any other smart person would have drove right by him, but I knew better.

He climbed in when I pulled up to the curb, rubbing his hands together in front of the heater, the hot air blowing yucky beer smell in my direction. "Pull up behind the garages."

"You're drunk," I said as I parked the car and cut the engine.

"Only a little bit."

I leaned forward, my hoodie riding up my back as I adjusted myself into a more comfortable position. Edward's cold hands sent a shock up my spine as he laid them on my newly bared skin.

"Holy!"

"My hands are cold."

"Then sit on them!" He only encircled my waist more, his fingers dancing around to my tummy, and I didn't want to admit it, but my muscles twitched in a happy dance from his touch.

"I missed you," he whispered, his lips near my ear as his hands pulled me against him. The parking brake stabbed at me. I jerked away only to be jerked back. "Why didn't you talk to me?"

"It was awkward." I struggled to not react as his lips pushed aside my hair and trailed down my neck. "Edward …"

"I missed you. I need you. Let's talk later."

And because I was weak when it came to him, I complied. He said take my shirt off. I did. He said crawl over the center console. I did. He said straddle him. I did. We had things that needed to be said. Curiosities that needed to be settled. Faith to be restored. But all I could concentrate on was the way our clothes were flying and his tongue doing amazing things across my body.

We switched so that he was on top, and it was filled with elbow-knocking and shin-banging and head-meeting-the-window movements that left me breathless with the short effort, lying in the passenger seat with a hungry-eyed Edward hovering over me.

He pulled my pants and underwear down, but only as far to me knees because of the angle he stood at. He used his foot to take them the rest of the way, and then he was plundering and exploring and finding buried treasure deep between my legs in a way that had me screaming arrrrrrr into the night.

He kissed me, a brief touch of his lips. "Shush. Someone might hear." And then he was pushing his pants down, and it was harder for him. His knees were braced on the seat, his hands on the shoulder rest. He had to straighten one leg and then the other because the car was just too confining.

And when he went to push into me, he couldn't, his dick poking my tummy instead, but he didn't seem to care as he continued to poke, poke, poke. Our bodies were angled too differently and unless we were a pretzel no fun times were happening, so I put one foot on the door's arm rest and the other on the dashboard and lifted my body to him. He held himself and pushed his way in.

"Teamwork," he whispered, but I was too distracted to care because he was inside and I'd only ever been in that position one other time. I was full and pressured and he was sliding so easily through my slickness. "Oh god, Bella. So good. So fucking good. Please tell me it's good. So good."

I lifted my hips, my legs straining, and because I didn't want him to think he wasn't doing a good job, I started moaning, even though it didn't really feel all that awesome. It didn't feel like anything actually. "So good, Edward. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

And he kept going, grunting and moaning, holding on to my neck with his face buried in my hair. I matched his rhythm but my legs were beginning to tremble with the effort to stay suspended. I grabbed onto the parking brake with one hand and smashed the other against the window in an effort to help out my quickly tiring legs, and I hoped he was almost finished because I wasn't sure how long I could last in this position.

I didn't have to worry long. His eyes twisted shut as he pushed his head against me, bending my neck at an awkward angle. His hips became erratic so much to the point where I held mine still, unable to keep up. Stay up or keep up. It was a hard choice, but when he was finished, he dropped his weight onto me and I didn't have enough strength, so I fell onto the seat, his dick slipping out and his body a heated blanket over mine.

I gave him a few minutes to recover all the while contemplating how sex wasn't all that it was made out to be and that sex in a car was definitely not a thing I'd like to do again. My elbows were screaming at me in pain. My vagina was screaming at me in disappointment. And my neck was screaming at me that Edward was snoring.

I guess we weren't talking tonight.


End file.
